Five Degrees of Normal
by Nacho06
Summary: I remember my first sighting of an Autobot. I didn't know it at first, but I was becoming a part of something big just by stepping into that foreign kid's car. None of this would have happened without my diabetes. Who knew being an amputee would put me into this much danger?
1. Chapter 1

**All Eyes On Me**

**C****hapter 1  
**

From the few days I first spent with him, I knew my life was a joke. I had so many friends that claimed there was something special found in every one us, that we all had a part to play, but damn, I felt pretty useless when he was around. He had traveled nearly half the world in the limited years he had spent here; he had made a promise to protect the world from itself, despite his true desires; and nobody could deny his strength both physically and mentally.

Only once in my small life did I ever see him break down into nothing. And that was in my final breath of light.

Months from now, if you were to tell me I became the most wanted person in all of the six continents (I think we can exclude our chilly friend in the South), you just might be lucky enough to receive a fair warning. And if you were dumb enough to tell me a second time, I would swing my artificial leg at you and call the cops.

No, probably not. There's too much work involved in taking off the leg. But seriously, my dad's a cop. I wouldn't try anything.

I was still sort of innocent. If by innocent, you picture a teenager on a million different type of medications and eats healthier than the Olympic athletes. Yeah, why not? My soul for the most part had a clear conscious. My immune system, not so much. The only guilty things I could probably nitpick would be my bipolar hormones and that one time I practically sealed my fate of never walking into another Wal-Mart again.

A story for another time perhaps if I am not gone before then.

The fact was, I was the only one-legged girl in all of Riverside, Arkansas that attempted at a sport which required nothing but feet. Probably the only one-legged girl in general if you didn't count the neighbourhood's alpha cat. The only difference was that I had received my "battle scar", my leg amputation, from type one diabetes that had smashed my glucose meter. And I wasn't a cat.

I liked to play for a recreational coed soccer team that ran it's own rules, rather than the county. It was my only option since I had been denied by the school board four years in a row, starting seventh grade.

Nobody liked the idea of a handicapped playing alongside their healthy children. They were all afraid of me - afraid that their angels sent straight from the skies would be plagued with my amputeeness. It was deemed unsafe from then on to have metal flying across the field. The Riverside Soccer Association had taken pity on me, and although that was great to at least have some kind of vent, they tried convincing me of the perks of standing in the goal and the advantages to being a seat-warmer.

Fortunately I was better with people than I gave myself credit for. Yeah, I ended up taking some hits under the net when the goalie got antsy, and I'd be lying if I told you I hadn't succumbed to my weak thighs more often than I should have. But I was doing them a favour at the same time, so I never did find that stop sign. Not on the field at least.

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I despised those days and I can't say I would love them if I ever returned, but I know it would be nice to have my old life back. My old, ignorant life.

I can still recall the fateful day when I first laid eyes on him. It was late afternoon, early evening, somewhere around four maybe, right when I escaped the treachery of the sickening perfume-scented clothing centers my mother had drug me through for school.

"Mom," the most common phrase you would ever hear from me. I may have had a limb missing, but I still had regular teenage hormone release. I was still a sixteen-year-old girl. "Mom! Just for an hour," I pleaded. "I suffered through your nail appointment. You owe me. If it's about acceptance onto the school team, I promise, even if it doesn't work out, the extra work won't go to waste."

"Sheesh, the nail salon wasn't that bad. The lady only asked if you wanted your nails done. You didn't have to be-"

"She was practically forcing me to-"

"She was just doing her job."

"Of bothering me?"

My mom had slammed the brakes in the middle of the country road that rarely had more than three cars on it at once. "How about this: I drop you off at the fields for half an hour, and I go pick up some Chinese so I don't have to listen to you sass the nail lady. Lord only knows what else you might find to gripe about next."

I was going to object to the Chinese since it wasn't highly recommended from my doctor, but Asian noodles had sounded great inside of my rumbling stomach. I nodded my agreement and allowed her to drive me to the fields.

The Riverside Soccer Association was a recreational soccer place where they ran their own rules (but still abided by the basics from the county) and created a number of teams in a number of age groups. It was a wide open space with maybe six fields that revolved around a circular concession stand that sold food and soccer merchandise.

It was huge in size, yet quaint in population.

When I arrived, I had counted a total of four cars parked in the lot. As I trampled the long walkway that lead to the entrance of the park, I noticed on the second field to the right a group of people all standing in a line and statured like military soldiers. In their sight was a single man who paced up and down the line with a ball. He wore a stern smirk as he eyed the group up and down, speaking something to them. I was much too far away to hear, but I could tell he was giving them an order. One by one, they each kicked the ball at him and he reverted it back to a random other in line. It was much more beautiful than I could or can ever care to explain. It was like watching a marching band form a shape on the football field, only in an instant.

It wasn't until he glanced over at me, his look of madness still very lively on his face, did I realize I was staring. I immediately glanced at my ball which was placed firmly beneath my artificial foot and the concrete. He was young, perhaps about my age even.

I proceeded forward onto the first field next to the group, deciding upon a few warm-up shots on the goal. I was never really encouraged to play offense, but then again, I wasn't encouraged to play soccer in the first place.

Although I had heard the stands roaring my name, the movements of those people...clung at the back of my brain. How they could all perform something so...so...robotic was amazing. I had hoped this wasn't a new team, and my hopes had prevailed in a way. Though rearranged would be the better word.

And that's when I saw_ it_. As soon as I did, I knew it belonged to the leader. The one who had been the controller of the actions.

On my way out at the second exit, there was a dusty yellow Camaro with thick black stripes running along it's hood and roof parked in one of the handicapped spaces. I slipped my finger across the passenger window. Despite the outside, which could have been easily presumed the dirt road had found it's next victim, the interior was leather-padded and looked brand new with nothing but what looked to be a little bumblebee car-scent thingy and a soccer ball with signatures on every square inch. This had to have been his, mostly because half of the kids up there didn't own vehicles, especially so neat and clean.

"Yeah, at least he really _is_ handicapped," someone had spit at me from behind. When I turned, the group had dissipated and one of them, a Freshman at my school, came in for the kill. "I saw you earlier today. A wheelchair? Pathetic."

I batted my eyes not a once. If I had a penny for how many times I was accused of not being handicapped, I would have enough to build my own robot leg. Or send my brother to Princeton so he could do it for me. But, I didn't blame him for being disgusted. Earlier while hunting for school appropriate clothes, I sat in a wheelchair. Not because I had to or wanted to, it was because people like him scolded me for not having a liable reason of wasting a space. People wanted physical proof that you were unable. What they didn't get was sometimes handicapped wasn't always on the outside.

I was guilty though. I was perfectly fine without the wheelchair and the parking spaces. It was only my mother who wanted it. My right to them were her advantage. But she was my mother, and I put her through enough before, so I allowed it.

At the return home, I took my food and ran for the hallway. Of course, I was stopped as always. Pills, fruits, pills, juice, pills, late night run with my dad. It wasn't all that bad in the scheme of things. The chewy vitamins were something I always looked forward to.

Usually, I would've been told to sit down and have dinner with the family: My stay-at-home mother who hadn't come up with a new story since the alien robots tried to take over the world; my dad, a cop who was still yapping about where the government went wrong with the alien robots; and my fourteen-year-old Brother, Simon, who was part of the robotics club and was, oh yeah, _obsessed _with the _alien robots_. But, I was able to convince her of my overwhelming fatigue due to our shopping spree.

Yeah, my family was pretty much crazy about the cause to the almost-apocalypse. I had become surprised how quiet the dinner table had become after the "Transformers" went into hiding, or left, or did whatever they did. It was sad to hear the sound of silence - the relieving breath after battle.

Only, there isn't a relieving breath at the end of a battle. Just suffering.

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_The new coach? _I remember how much awe I was in when I discovered that that _kid _running the group that day was actually old enough to _coach_. I mean, he must have been doing a good job after what I saw that day, but it was impossible.

That was not the only thing that caught me by surprise. He wasn't _just_ going to be a new coach, no, he was replacing the retired Coach Sanders from the number one ultimate brigade in the association. They were shedding a strong trainer, and gaining a stronger teacher. In what way was that fair?

Apparently, very. Many of my teammates, which was made up of a band of last-picks for the dodgeball match in P.E., had posted on Facebook about this new coach. They were excited for the chance to prowl the top of the charts. It seemed to mean everything to them. Not that we had a chance of getting past the other towering teams who had been waiting for the opportunity forever, but it was just a good thing this wasn't dodgeball.

While they bet their future savings, I was suspicious and slightly worried. I had watched him play a little bit before reclining in the air-conditioned climate of the soccer mom van. His shots were incredible, looking as if they grew wings and placed themselves inside the goal for him. And his dribbling, impeccable! He weaved harmlessly through that whole flock of people. I wished I could do that with my leg, but I would only stumble over it the first try. I remember when I was a decent dribbler. He was going to be a tough component to get around. I had just felt lucky to have my coach against him, and not me.

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So, what do you guys think of the first chapter?  
Give me your comments and what you think I can improve on!  
I plan to share your feedback and answer any questions with each update  
(or have separate updates if it takes too long with the next chapter).  
Thank you again and enjoy!

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	2. Chapter 2

**Legless No More**

**Chapter 2**

My next encounter with _him_ was not very exciting, but it was something that got me to where I am today.

It was opening house of my Junior year. The time was tumbling nearer: one more week and I would be stuck in the dim-witted classrooms for seven hours a day, five days a week, and nine-and-a-half months. I had tried to preserve the summer by sleeping until noon and waking up to sunshine and doing what I pleased. My mom cleaned that up quickly, however. Now I not only had evening runs with my dad, but early morning walks with my mom too. I could never be a teenager.

She was right though, even if she didn't tell me straight. I had to face reality. Junior year was awaiting me, staring me down. Probably in the leg, that's where everybody looked first. I had to prepare for my new team at the school. There was this feeling inside of me - I knew this was the year they would allow my presence on the field. I'd be surrounded by the screaming stands with shocked expressions gazing at me, galvanized by the sight. _Me_. Not the dumb old plastic strapped to my stump that seemed to become who I am.

That was the last place I visited that night: the sports building. It was wiser to get a direct answer from the activities director, but I wanted to hear it from the assistant coach myself. She was a lady I trusted and still do to this day. But on the very day I desired my answer most, in her place was the kid from the fields. _At my school._

"'Ey! You int'rested in trying out for the soccer team? It's top five in the county, I 'eard." He spoke with a weird accent, as he fixed his eyes on his phone. He couldn't have possibly been in the U.S. for very long. Not if I could hardly understand him. "Waid'a minute. I know you." His gaze lifted up, as well as the corners of his lips. "You were at the Fields yestaday, weren't you?"

I was too caught up in his voice to answer, mesmerized by his pale skin. Nobody had that pale of skin around here. Yet, at the same time, I didn't _want _to answer. Ms. Rudy, the assistant coach, knew about my condition. Although this was a trained kid (he _had_ to be), I didn't want to go into detail about my problems. He was still unbelievably young, too young to understand. Plus, he had to have been European of some sort. He _had_ to be good. So, yes, for once in a long time, I, Olivia Banks, was embarrassed.

My mom could sense it, and stepped in for me, explaining my condition in as much sugar you could pillow it with. She made me pull up my pant leg to show him as if he wouldn't believe me. He was shocked, it was easy to tell, but I also knew he was trying his hardest to keep a straight face.

"Right, they told me 'bout you. I'm sorry, they 'aven't come up with anything yet. When they do, though, I'll be the first to let you know."

_Great, that's exactly what I want. _

I did want it.

"Where's Ms. Rudy?" I asked without faze.

"She's uh..." he stammered a lot, "she's been gone all summer. Migh' not be back for a while. I'm 'ere in'er place for now. Do you - do you mind comin' by the same fields Friday? I would, you know, if you wouldn't mind, I 'aven't ever-" He rambled on, repeating what he said over and over until he could spit out the _correct _way to ask me.

I suddenly felt less uncomfortable about my leg. He was just like everybody else, afraid that they would offend me if they said the wrong thing. But none ever did. None that modest. "Yeah, sure." I cut it short, wanting to leave and go home so I could wait for the email that would tell me whether it was going to be a good year or not.

Every other year they had their answer by at least this time. Surely they were finally considering the fact that amputees had souls too.

"...I've never actually-." He stopped mid-sentence with a smile. "Great. Eleven, then? Make sure to bring your ball. Oh, by the way, the name's Martin." He stuck out his hand, but I did not move.

Mom smiled for me and grabbed my shoulders, even if I was slightly taller than her. "Thank you. She'll be there."

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I awaited the drive home for so long. I practically clung the to the side of the couch next to my father as soon as I had walked through the front door. He was sitting lazily in the love seat, arms flailed, just as tired as I had been.

"How'd things go? What classes did'ya get?" he asked monotonously.

"Well," Mom interfered, "she's still ahead in math with Trigonometry, AP History, and a new boyfriend."

My dad furrowed his eyebrows and stared at me with weariness as if to say "How did this happen?" I shrugged my shoulders and rolled my eyes, or as much as I could with my cheek smashed against the dark leather.

The news was on, and going strong about the disappearance of the Transformers. They even had an anonymous subject speak on behalf of the government, assuring the world that they were done. But there were pictures from all around the world about unexplained tragedies; Buildings smashed, craters in the earth, forests uprooted. Yet, the official blew them off, bit by bit. He would claim they were either minor natural tragedies or from the previous wars.

The Transformers were here for a reason and gone for a reason. This Earth couldn't handle more than one powerful force. One needed to go, and the Humans surely weren't giving up their planet now. No, not yet. But nobody could deny what was happening. It was going on the whole time whether they knew it or not.

The Transformers were back.

The Transformers are back.

And I want nothing more from or of them.

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Days rumbled by, no particular event setting off any alarms or worth getting excited over. The only thing I had been looking forward to the remaining week were the emails from my German Pen-Pal, Lisa, who was an amputee as well. Only, she was in a nasty electrical accident as a child. Let's just say her parents weren't good at watching their children, and Germany's hotel staff forgot the meaning of "key".

The emails were getting more interesting by the week though. First, she tells me she is going on a month-long vacation to Russia to visit her father at work, then nearly days later she shows me these...robotic arms that looked just like real arms - moved just like real arms. She had complete control of them apparently; I watched it second hand from a video. It seemed photoshopped for the longest time, but I came to the conclusion that this had to have been the real deal.

"That's great!" I said to her. But I had a choke hold back anything else. My selfish attitude was getting the better of me again. I wanted a new leg I could move and use that's perfectly intact to my knee again. Why were some people so lucky, and then there were people like me?

People gawked; mothers slapped their children around if they stared at me for too long. It bothered me more that they were so worried about offending me rather than taking their own discretions into consideration. I didn't care that much; the questions weren't a hassle. I could deal with the public's interest. It felt better to inform them than leave them in the dark of first-world problems. I would be lying if I said I didn't want to be normal again, though.

No, I am normal. Just a different type of normal. A degree, or certainty, of it. I was the cripple, degree four.

After another few short minutes, I ended the chat. It was hard to watch her adjust to her new limbs. It was unnatural to congratulate somebody for something you wanted so badly.

As I sat with my back resting against the end of my bed, my head hanging off with just my neck holding on, I grasped a book that was already lying on the floor below my head and picked up from where I last left off. This was how I always read. It was some weird fetish of mine that was probably the reason why I _needed_ to read from the brain cells I was probably losing in this time.

Suddenly, a whirring of wind hovered around my room, clicking and beeping like a recorder in an interrogation room. It had been my brother again with his stupid toy car. For months he had been trying to get a toy monster truck to fly like a helicopter by attaching fan blades to it and doing some other mechanical crap. I wasn't the engineer here. But, by the looks of the plastic, fake pipes suspended above my face, he had done it. Took long enough. I lacked a personal assistant.

Before I could pluck it from the air, however, it inched it's way towards the window to my right and dropped without hesitation. Right where my laptop lay. My body snapped up faster than my brain could process as I made a grab for the damn thing. "SIMON!" I hollered, having already dropped down to the wooded floors to examine my laptop. "SIMON!"

He sped in with an expression of fear, smashing through my door like it was a barricade. "What? What is it?"

I held up the car like it was obvious, but he hid his expression all too well. Doing that, a grappling hook untangled itself from a set of series of gears between the wheels, dangling from a rope before being wound back up. "Care to explain?"

Simon did not splutter out his words as he did on a daily basis. His tone was serious and straight, which made me more suspicious than his mumbled excuses. I wouldn't have been surprised if he had planned this all along. "Don't let me catch it in here again," I warned with a stern glare. "That might be the cause of the alien armageddon and I don't want to be the first to go.

He nodded, slightly confused as he stared down at his little creation. With a light scratch of his head, Simon was gone, probably figuring out the minor details of why his mini mission had failed.

By then I had decided I was way too tired to be reading. So I flicked my side-table lamp off and buried myself deep into the comforter of my bed. A hum of beeps sung me to sleep even though there was nothing in my room that could have possibly emitted such noise.

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"So, tell me about yourself."

It was finally Friday, and I hadn't exactly been looking forward to this particular day. For once, somebody other than my doctor volunteered to speculate my specific performance. I tried to slip out of it by searching through my unfinished English documents for summer homework, but my laptop had mysteriously disappeared ironically after my brother's mission failure. He was clueless, and I was running late as it was.

But, hey, two more days and I was trapped under the authority of unfair teacher officials. Might as well get my worth out of summer now. Playing a little soccer with a strange boy that was soon to be an enemy to my team for a couple hours would do no harm for now.

I spoke some of my first words that morning as we took some shots at the goal, not really saying much but giving him the small stuff like birthplace, birthday, music, movie interests, and etcetera.

He was a good listener as I found out quick. With every statement I made about myself - good or bad - he had something else to add on. It was nice to know he was interested at least, but he had said nothing about himself quite yet.

I asked him the same.

We were now simply passing the ball back and forth. He had wanted to see how I played with my "injury" as he called it, so I showed him with basic taps.

"Ah, I would tell you." Then he was silent. I expected a catch, but his lips were sealed.

"_Would_?" I urged.

His head snapped up as if I should have taken heed to what he said. "Yes, _would_. Telling you about myself would give you no opportunity to learn more about me." He stopped the ball under his foot in a crushing trap and averted his eyes, then slowly they rose to meet mine.

"Right, just like I _would_ be infuriated at you. But it won't make much of a difference, because, I think my ride is coming soon." My words were harsh, but made sure to keep my tone calm.

I shivered at his unexpected smile.

"You American Girls are 'ard ones to catch, aren't you?" His grin broadened in kind of a creepy way. My first instinct was to run and call 911, but something about his composure told me I was fine for now. "You know a little bit 'bout me from our conference at the school and...I found out a little bit 'bout you. 'Ow about you let me show you the guy who changed everything for people like...uh," his comfort disintegrated, "um, I mean...amputees, like you...who want to, you know, play _soccer_. Next Friday. After school, of course."

My throat quivered with uneasiness. He had been a good guy from the start, but something sent bad vibes that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. For some reason, some stupid, crazy reason, I nodded. And I did this for my own discretion this time.

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Then there I was, not even hours later, sitting at my local pediatrician's office, waiting for the nurse to call me into the back room. My mother rubbed my thigh - the good one - with a hidden smile playing at her lips. We weren't here for a checkup or anything. There was a numbness I had been experiencing for the past few weeks and my mom became worried - a bit too worried.

"Olivia." A nurse in neon green scrubs slipped through the door that separated the office from the waiting room. It was a man with scraggly grey hair from the top of his lip down to just about his collar bones. And he smelt of spoiled milk. Beautiful.

I waited for what seemed like another hour for the doctor to arrive. To make matters more tedious, when he did find his way around, the was in and out within minutes, asking me a set of questions he always asked me every time we came for regular checkups. But this wasn't a regular checkup, and he was acting as if my dying stump was nothing of a problem.

Then the nurse who smelt of spoiled milk took the place of the doctor, holding his own clipboard between the crevice of his fingers, eyeing my mom with apology. "I am sorry, Mrs. Banks. The doctor and I believe it would be best to speak with Olivia alone." I wished to hug the man. My mom was a worry wort, and whatever he was kicking her out for had to have been something serious. I was prepared to hear it, just not with my over emotional mother in the room.

She looked at me, waiting for the slightest of a response. I nodded and she was gone.

"Olivia, my name is Mr. Richards. We have some news for you which may or may not be fortunate in your opinion, but I think you're going to like it." The nurse had a peculiar accent, as if English was not his first language. His pronunciations were still understandable, but his slip-ups were obvious. "We have taken some consideration into your grave dislike for your plastic replacement of your tragic incident..." he motioned towards the gross prop swinging by my hip, leaving my stump free. "As you may have seen or heard, some very lucky people have been receiving very lucky gifts of very advanced technology by anonymous donors. You are about to be offered a chance to feel that leg again. Your doctor told me your dream of playing in the Professional Leagues of Footba - er - Soccer, eh? With this new-"

"I don't want it," I nearly exclaimed with a sort of madness heating up inside of me. This had happened too many times to count, only, there weren't sent from anonymous donors. "I've already tried out three different prototypes that suck. I think I'd rather die before I'm tortured with this "improvement" for the rest of my life."

Here we go. I was being unnecessarily dramatic again.

I rammed my plastic leg onto the tiled floor and grabbed my crutch in one single swipe "I'm done with these experiments! I'm not your lab rat!" My mother jumped into the room all of a sudden, growling like a guard dog in the dump.

"Wait, no, let me explain. This has already been tested by many variables. It is proven to bring back all stimulants and nerves and feelings from the missing body part and stable itself to where it once was. There is only six percent chance of failure during the process. That is how sure we are. But there _is_ one catch..."

My lungs filled up with as much as air they could hold, ready to either blow out the steam I had regretfully shedded, or an anger that could not be contained. What catch? Wasn't there always one?

"It is permanent. There is no surgical needs for this, only a designated nurse - that would be me - and a full 24 hours for it to heal. Do we have a deal?"

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I promise, for all who are waiting for the Transformers action, it WILL be in the next chapter, for sure!  
Thanks for reading!

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	3. Chapter 3

**You're Not A Transformer**

**Chapter 3  
**

"_Breaking News! Ever since the last battle fought between the popular alien robots, the Transformers, many have questioned their disappearance. We just may have answers over in our calmer Illinois neighbor, Missouri. Late last night, Bakersfield's backstreets experienced a large enough force to create massive craters approximately thirty meters in diameter and rip exterior walls of buildings There were few witnesses in the area at the time of action, claiming that what they saw were, in fact, the Transformers. The status of friend or foe remains unclear. Government officials have yet to react to this unlikely incident_."

_Click_.

"Damn robots."

That was the fourth news station this week to have broadcasted the tragedy in Missouri. And the thousandth person to have tagged me in the videos on Facebook (Okay, I watched all of them on the way home anyway, but that's not important). This wasn't the first sighting of a Transformer accident. The witnesses claimed to have seen them in the night, stalking buildings and smashing people with their gigantic metal claws. Though no evidence has been found of it.

I tried to ignore the fact that the robots were nearing Arkansas. The little messes that they left behind just kept heading south, and I was secretly waiting for Riverside High to show up on the television demolished into nothing. That would be something. But all the victimized buildings seemed to be of low-quality and in low-lying areas. They weren't trying to get caught, that was for sure.

The Transformers weren't very important to me, though. Not in my life. The people that were damned enough to be "chosen" by those monstrous robots were fortunate enough to have their lives torn apart. I was lucky to have a semi-regular life. The Degree Four Life.

Today was the day I was supposed to receive my leg. Well, sort of. The nurse had promised me less than a week, and it was already Friday. He was late. I thought for a while that maybe he was exaggerating a little a bit, but my mother reassured me that it would be here "in the blink of an eye."

I blinked. Nothing.

For now, while I waited impatiently on the bus ride home, I had a...this thing...the thing with Martin this day. He wanted to show me "the guy who changed everything for soccer amputees." I wasn't really prepared for what he was about to show me, but I had a feeling he was either trying to raise my spirits about the board's decision or was encouraging me to look past it.

Or maybe he was just trying to be friendly. Mom claimed that he had taken an interest and was subtly asking me out, but if that was the case, I think a foreign guy would have eventually said something. Weren't outsiders usually more romantic?

As soon as I stepped off the steps of the rusted, yellow vehicle, my mother greeted me with a smile and a knee-length pale orange dress. I frowned and took a deep breath to acclimate to what was about to happen.

"So...how was school?"

I kept my gaze steady on the garden around us. "Okay, but I have a feeling that you don't care." She didn't. Her words were quick and her eyes were wide as if she had been standing outside the house all day.

"Of course I care, Honey. It's just, this is your first date since seventh grade Johnny Camsy, and, well..."

I rolled my eyes and pushed past her, throwing my backpack onto the couch. Did she really have to bring up Johnny Camsy? Again, a story for another time. "This isn't a date, Mom. We're going to talk soccer. That's all."

"You're right. You're right. But...just in case-" She held out the dress in front of her with a mischievous smile returning. "My job as a mother is to prepare you for these things."

I could see already that I would not escape this no matter what I said. Objection was not a choice.

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When the yellow Camaro pulled up into our driveway (my father thankfully not home yet), my mother practically shoved me and her dress of preference out the door. I was able to convince her of plain red converse and a simple ponytail with a few simple curls swirled in my blonde hair. She cringed, but "accepted", only after complaining about how I was "too bleak" and stuck a makeup kit in my face.

As I hurried out of the house, I washed my face with a rag I managed to slip from the kitchen. My mother waved to Martin as he stepped out of the car and opened up my door like a gentleman. My face flushed as I hid the towellete in my hands, neglecting my mother's curfew wails. I could only imagine the questions from her that would keep me awake that night.

"Are you all right?" A warm laugh came from the driver's seat as Martin revved up the engine. "You're mother seems like a nice lady."

_Oh, if only._

My laugh was as small as fly's, only loud enough to acknowledge his words. I turned towards my window and finished up the last of the eye shadow. That was a mistake. When I glanced into the side-door mirror, my face looked like that of a clown's. Maybe if I kept my face hidden for the ride, I could sneak off to the bathroom and do a more thorough cleaning. For now, I would have to avoid eye contact.

"Tha's a nice dress. Perfect for the evening."

I swallowed a knot in my throat. How would this work? "Th-Thank you." What else was I to say?

The rest of the car ride consisted of him attempting to make small talk as I either nodded or made a minor joke to keep up his spirits. But regardless of his smile, I knew this was lame. Not the conversation itself, but him bringing me at all. It was doomed to become some disaster.

For a while, I had turned my head towards him to at least make it seem like I was listening, though I kept my head down. Doing so, I saw behind the seat a laptop peeking behind his back seat. It looked oddly like mine, but why or how could he have stolen my laptop? Now I was just being ridiculous. But I could not deny the strange sticky mark where my sticker was on my own.

Applebees. He had taken me to Applebees. I mean, it wasn't so awfully terrible, but I felt like I overdressed, especially my face. Not to mention my short dress easily revealed the prosthetic beneath me.

He insisted on opening up the door for me, bounding from his seat and hurrying over to my side. I beat him to it, averting my eyes to the left so that he could not see the twister upon me.

"Two, please," he said to the waitress. I could practically hear his grin. What was he so happy about?

"I'm, uh...I'm going to head off to the bathroom." I glanced quickly at him then towards the giant sign hanging above a hallway that said "RESTROOM". Before he could say anything else, I paced myself that way, trying not to make too big of a scene.

Okay, I admit, I overreacted a little bit. The mascara had come off with ease, and the beige eye shadow was hardly noticeable. It was only the eye liner and lip gloss that made a sparkly mess. It was washed off with a few simple handfuls of water.

I checked my phone unconsciously. It was five.

Patting down my hair, I walked out with more confidence. Martin sat at a booth, his back to me, crunching his knuckles nervously. I settled down across from him with a reassuring smile, almost apologetic for my previous behavior.

"Um, I know I've asked you this probably a million times already...But, uh...are you all right?" His smiled had dissipated every so slightly and his eyebrows hung limply above his eyes without clue.

"Yeah. Yes, totally. I'm good. Never been better," I blurted out with an innocent tug of my lips. I begged inwardly that he would just forget it and move on. Somehow, I had no doubt that he would. "So, um..." I searched desperately for something to say. "'Guy who changed it all.' Who's that?"

Martin grinned, pointing to a television at the bar. "When I 'eard they were going to be doin' an interview on this guy, I immediately thought of you. You see, his name is Nico Calabria. Been famous since 'e was only thirteen. Go on, listen to it."

A boy who looked to be Martin's age was in front of the camera, a microphone practically shoved down his throat. The interview was not voiced, rather displayed to show he was a popular specimen. I read the lines that showed what the biographer was saying. "_Massachusetts High School Soccer Player Nico Calabria has been widely known around the world for his advance excellence in sports, even with the huge obstacle of his missing right hip and leg._ 'My disability doesn't define who I am_,"_ _Calabria explains. '_ My disability gives me a challenge everyday that I need to overcome and I think that challenge has made me a strong-_'_"

The channel flickered violently, and was interrupted by an announcement from other news stations. In bold letters, the title read "**TRANSFORMER SPOTTED IN ARKANSAS**." Above this, a video played from a witnesses' phone of two monster bots battling each other in...Wait, I knew that place. It was behind the big Toys-R-Us factory up in the north-eastern part of Arkansas. A good three hours away, thankfully, but this was getting scarier and scarier. What were they doing here? Couldn't they go back to Chicago and wreck up that city again?

"Wha' a bunch of rubbish," Martin muttered from in front of me. He returned to his sprite, flicking the straw around a few times and shaking his head. For a minute, I mistook this for a disposition on the robots. "They interrupt the sports channel for _this_. I'm sorry, maybe another time. I've got some documentaries saved back at my apartment if you're ever interested. I'm here for the rest of the season."

That shook me out of my Transformer Trance. "The rest of the season?" I was suddenly disappointed.

"Yeah. I needed an extra job aside from my online college classes and my soccer team. My cousin lives here, so I thought I might check this place out." He could sense my sadness as I munched on a chip from the appetizer we had ordered together. "_But_, I will be back next fall. This place is pretty amazing," he mumbled with two chips stuffed into his mouth,Don't miss me too much." He gave me a toothy grin and I couldn't help but smile.

After another half-hour of listening to him ramble on about whatever over in his home-country, which happened to be England, he paid for the bill (which my mother warned me not to object to) and we were out the door.

"Listen, I apologize about the night. I really wanted you to see-"

"No, no, it's all right. I loved it. I have to tell you," I continued, hopping into the car (it must have been nicer than I thought: the doors popped open by just the click of his keys!), "I thought tonight was going to be a disaster. I'm not...I'm not good at these things."

He stared at me with an admiration I had not seen in a long time. "You were great."

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Like earlier today, my mother jumped out of the door as the car pulled up to the curb. Only, instead of a dress, she held a long box. My mouth gaped and I nearly dropped my phone.

"I-It's here? That's it?"

She nodded.

I dashed through the yard (or as much as I could) and was already sitting on the couch, waiting for Mom to tear open the package. Yeah, I was a little more excited than I would have proven the day the proposal came to be. I was always excited for these things, even with the chances of failure. There was something in that nurses' voice, something that made me do more than _want_ to believe him.

The same nurse stepped in from a week ago, apologizing about the long wait (too many apologies) and kneeling down in front of me. As he opened the box, I looked at my mom who held my shoulder from behind the couch, and Martin who had just decided he wanted to see too.

That made me nervous.

The leg included no straps and was as real as could be. The nurse only put it up to my stump after injecting a numbing shot, and, voila, there it was. Limp and heavy, like it didn't want to be there. He explained to me some highly certified doctor stuff which I could never follow, but Mom seemed to understand. He handed me a vat of pills he said was very urgent I take today and tomorrow.

And just like that, I had a new leg. I was whole again. How it made sense, I had no idea. But I didn't care very much. I could start walking as soon as I was ready, and boy was I ready. Though he said it would take time before I could fully rejuvenate myself with this new piece of me.

With the help of Mom and the nurse, I gripped their shoulders tighter and tighter every time I stepped down onto the new feeling. My whole leg was still a bit numb from the medicine, so it would be a few hours before I could do some real movement. I stared at Martin as he stared at me, a mutual thought floating in the air.

When the nurse left, giving his regards, Martin grinned and turned to my mother. "I - uh, I know it's kind of late." He was sucking up now. It was only seven. "But...I think both Olivia and I would like to-"

"Go ahead." Mom pursed her lips with a slight upward curve to them.

I gripped her unyieldingly around the shoulders, pecked her on the cheek, and followed Martin out to his car. "I can't believe this! I...I can walk - I can - I don't have to use that damned metal again!" I cheered aloud, pumping the air and climbing into the front seat of the Camaro. This was going to be a good year, I could already tell. It had to be, or else.

"You know what I'm going to have to do know, right?" He expected me to be surprised at what came next, but I was already past that. "We'll meet with them Monday, yeah? The Council will be happy to view this new discovery."

The both of us sat flat against our seats, staring outside with grins far from falter. This had to be a dream. It was a dream. A dream come true.

In silence, we were off to the unspoken yet clear destination. The Fields. The only other place I would want to be to celebrate.

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"Hold on. D'you mind if I swing by my apartment? It's literally right down the road."

I nodded, hardly processing his words.

It was a large, open complex with individual houses lined in about five sections per intersection. A _really nice_ neighborhood, I might say so. It was only natural for me to assume that he was rooming with his cousin. "Just a moment," he smiled, holding his finger before sliding out of the seat. I watched as he ignored the open car door and jogged up the concrete steps, then disappear into the dark hole of his house.

He left the single key in the ignition, so I decided to fiddle around with the radio until a song I recognized popped through the speakers. It was an oldie, but I hummed along to what I knew.

Throughout the song, clicks and beeps sounded in odd placements. It was true, I hadn't listened to it in a long while, but no song was crazy enough to put random effects in it like there was. When it became louder, I turned the volume down and found that it was not the song at all. It was the laptop in the back I had noticed early. Funny, my laptop made the same sound when I received an email. But never when it was closed.

And, as if the stereo had responded, a beeping sounded at the exact time the laptop's beep became apparent.

I acted as if that was the weirdest part. As soon as I turned off the car to hopefully rid of the pestering noise, it kept going. The radio was lit up and _still ran_. The car jerked backwards no sooner than I switched the volume off completely. I clung to my seat praying that this whole thing had been a dream, taking in deep breaths to keep calm.

_What the hell was going on?_

I didn't know what to do as it took off down the road. I tried to roll down the windows or open up the car door to dive into the grass, but the possessed vehicle had locked them and was dangerously increasing speed. I would never survive the jump.

Then the thought hit me. A terrifying thought. The bold letters stood out more than ever now. "**TRANSFORMERS SPOTTED IN ARKANSAS**."

"_Shit_," I mumbled, frantically searching for a way out. I never took a good enough look at the aliens in the videos. I should've know. The News was constantly showing recent pictures of them to warn us if they were in the area. "What do you want?" I kicked and screamed, pounding the radio as if it would give me answers. I knew this thing could talk somehow. The television was no stranger to me.

"Aye, quit it. You're hurting 'im." When I turned to see who had spoken, a small ugly robot stood in the backseat, wires sparking as he moved. I bit my lip as I realized _that was the laptop_. "Now quit squirming around."

My whole body flinched as it jumped into the driver's seat, looking me up and down with curiosity. Without further instruction, it rolled out of the seat and down to where my feet were, picking at both of them. It pinched at the new leg I had received, which was slowly coming more to life. "What - What is this?" It poked more at it, attempting to pull it apart. I could feel it then; a slight nerve pick up that made me kick, though it did very little.

"Bumblebee, are you seeing this?" A red laser emitted from the radio that scanned my body, landing on my leg.

The laser disappeared and the speed meter increased about ten miles an hour.

_What the hell?_

"What? Why am I here? Wh-Who are you?"

The little robot hopped onto my lap, clenching my chin with a rough jerk. "She's clueless. But you humans are experienced liars, ain't ya? Hold that thought." A seatbelt snapped over me and we came to an abrupt stop as the driver's side door popped open. A similar, thinner, darker blue robot joined us, looking me up and down as well. "Wheelie!" the laptop exclaimed. "Glad you could finally join us."

The bot, Wheelie, did not answer him. It, or he, rather, surveyed me from all around, rubbing it's chin - or whatever it was, as if it - he had facial hair. "Do you know who we are?" it - he snapped, leaping into my face as well. I shook my head, pulling my knees up to my face so that he would back off. "_We're_ the _Autobots_. Y'know, the Transformers. We're all over the news! C'mon, your brother talks about them all the time!"

Laptop spoke up, pulling it - him backwards by the...arm...thing, "Yeah, yeah, she knows. Listen here, Girl." He pointed his robot finger at me. "That thing on your leg, it ain't normal. That's...that's Decepticon stuff."

Decepticon? What the hell was a Decepticon?

"Bumblebee, how far are we?"

Before the Camaro could say anything, I interfered, "Wait, wait, wait, where are you taking me? You can't just barge in like that and take whoever is in your path!" I sat up very quickly, which, for once, made them back away the slightest.

"Ooh, wow now, lady. This is some serious shit we're gettin' into," Wheelie said. "You can't just walk around with a Decepticon on you! That's crazy talk! Just sit back and relax. Bee's got everything in control."

"Bee? Who's-"

The radio started up. "Almost there." It was odd sounding, though none of these robots voices sounded normal. I expected them to be more...I don't know, _roboty_.

My seatbelt tightened around me, and I gripped it like it was the only thing keeping me from insanity. This was not going to be such a good year. If I even made it past today.

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Just a side note, updates will not always be this quick. This story started out on another website and I decided to catch up over here since I've been slow with writing lately (slow, as in, not writing at all). I will try to update every week since I have put my other stories on hold. I have high hopes for this one!

Thank you for all of the reviews! I love to see that people are interested. That's exactly why I am here: to give you a good story, and hopefully one you haven't see yet. If you see anything that doesn't seem right, please let me know. This is my first Transformers Fanfiction and I don't know all the inns and outs quite yet.

Thank you all again!

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	4. Chapter 4

**Calling All Alien Robots**

**Chapter 4**

I hated myself for this, but I had fallen asleep even in the midst of danger. My instincts were supposed to kick in, adrenaline streaming through my bones and magical karate moves breaking out of nowhere, but my body decided that it needed a nap before any of that could happen. It wasn't my fault the damn radio had been tuned to Mozart. I would have turned it down more for the sake of my ears had it not been a kidnapping. What interest did this car have in classical music anyway? The symphonies had managed to wedge itself into my head and I dreamt of cauldron pots with oozy liquids protruding below a helpless me hanging upside-down awaiting the metal monster who desired me as his next meal.

_This is it_, I had thought in my state of comatose, _I'm going in the most unpredicted, suckiest way._

I guess that was more of 19th century witch thing though, huh? When I awoke from my deep slumber (which was painfully sweet), my achy legs were sprawled across the dashboard with my hands and face crammed against the window.

As my senses began to flush through, darkness engulfed my surroundings with only a dirt road visible by the headlights. The engine purred warmly with faint rigid muttering in the background. I peeked over my shoulder, hardly making out the robot twins who had migrated to the back floorboards going on about who knows what.

I removed my legs from the dashboard as quietly as I could so that the aliens behind me would not stir out of place. God forbid I have another heart attack. Then, I cut off the music completely. Stevie Wonder had found his way onto _Shakespeare 16.6_ and I wasn't in the mood for gospel. Or any music in general.

A loud clicking resonated throughout the whole car and I immediately shut my eyes as silence approached. I held my breath, listening to the steady wheels on the road, then exhaled slowly when the murmuring of the robots returned.

"You're awake." The Camaro's voice made me jump timidly, but I caught my tongue.

"Yeah," I whispered, curling my lips in like the words were bitter. "Yeah." Out of habit, I pulled my knees tight against my chest.

The Camaro was mute for a long time after that.

"I am sorry," it said, voice strangely at a different pitch, as well were his next words. "They don't usually roll this way."

I raised a brow, now crossing my legs Indian-style. "Who's 'They'?" I asked, half-distracted by the western accent.

"The robots," a newscaster spoke to me. "'The Autobots' they call themselves." I recognized this from one of the stations Dad "trusted most". "Here to protect humanity from the Decepticons."

"Ah." I nodded as if I understood. I didn't. "'Decepticons'. Like the one hitching a ride on my leg? The evil bots?"

A series of whirs clicked which I assumed to be an obvious "yes". "...we can never be too sure." A doctor came to voice. "The infection in you right fibula has..." there was a short disconnection, "could not be identified."

My fingers clung to the seatbelt with desperation and cowardess. "So...you're saying I have a robot hiding in my leg? How is that possible?" I pushed it away, looking at it in disgust. This thing was practically a time bomb waiting to explode. I didn't want it on me!

"Not possible," it replied with a snap in an unfamiliar tone. Another disconnection ran through his words. "It is."

"_It is_?" I repeated, staring at the radio like it had eyes. "You mean, _there's a Transformer that decided it was a good idea to turn into a PROSTHETIC_? I knew this was too good to be true." I slammed my head against the chair, glaring at my reflection in the window. "Why me?"

The grip the seatbelt once had over me loosened a bit.

"Anything else you want to tell me?" I grumbled, throwing my hands up into the air.

"Uh, I may have walked in on your mom bathing, but I swear-" the bot Wheelie grasped the back of the chair and stuck his hand on the shoulder of it before being yanked down by Laptop.

"Shut up, dumbass. She was _talkin'_ to _Bumblebee_."

The lights on the radio lit up once more. "What is your name?"

I settled down a bit to stay on civilized terms (something Mom taught me for my disability), regardless if certain death was upon me. "Olivia," I said, leaning my elbow on the door and my face onto my hand. "I'd bet my lucky stars yours is Bumblebee. If I had any luck."

I took the rumble of the engine as a sign of laughter. However these aliens expressed humor.

"Bee," Laptop hobbled into the driver's seat. "How far?"

"Almost there."

"Yeah, obviously we have different expectations of 'almost'. You said that four hours ago."

"_Four hours ago_?" I shot up out of my seat. "_Where are we going_?"

"Colorado."

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I managed to curl myself into a ball, forever staring at the lock in case the Camaro decided to take it easy on me, but it budged not once. Didn't matter much if I couldn't fly out of a vehicle running a hundred miles an hour. I was surprised we had not been pulled over by a cop or collided with a fellow driver.

Though I couldn't get a clear view of the area since it was still somewhere in the middle of the night, I knew Colorado. We were stumbling around in debris with plateaus most-likely containing us like a giant bowl. I didn't understand why they were taking me so far away from home. They had made messes so easily without care before. Why was I special enough to be taken to a place where nobody could hear my screams?

I dared not ask. The Camaro had been short with me so far and I felt that was all I was going to get out of him. And the twins were out of the picture: they were perverted bumbling idiots. I doubted their robot alien intelligence would get me very far.

But he had shed me some sort of evidence of a conscious. What captive would ask his dinner for their name? I mean, a serial killer with mental problems might, but this was in all sincerity, like it cared. Like He cared.

The minis were thoroughly surprised when they found out I was not a Transformer. I wasn't originally part of their plan. The leg wasn't yet permanent, so they could probably just pop it off and they would harmlessly drop me off at home, right? All I had to do was explain to Mom someone had stolen the car when Martin left with me still in it. That was believable, wasn't it?

More than being abducted by a gang of alien robots. They would have had me broadcasted with all those other suckers on TV! I couldn't imagine what Martin was thinking right about now. I wondered if he had called the police already, either for the car or for me. Or my mom, in this case. I hadn't received any phone calls or text messages from her lately.

I smacked my forehead with my with my palm. MY PHONE! I had slipped it in the glove department for safe keeping when we were out on the fields.

With haste, I wrapped my fingers around the handle and heard a satisfying snap of the compartment. Shoving my hand through the mess of CD encasements and miscellaneous items. No phone. Those bots must have done something with it.

"Where is it?" I demanded, slamming my fists down against the seat with growing confidence. They weren't going to hurt me...I hoped.

"What are you looking for?" The Camaro rumbled to life.

I growled. "I think you know what I'm talking about. My phone - _where is it_?"

The twins in the back shut up as soon as I raised my voice. Their faces were buttered with guilt and I knew they were the culprits. Wheelie scratched the back of his head (these robots had _really_ studied human behavior), his mouth agape like he was about to say something but couldn't find the proper words.

"We had to dispose of any evidence of our trace," The Camaro clipped out a scene from X-Files, speaking up for the twins.

"Exposure is a death sentence," Laptop added on. "People have been huntin' us down, even Decepticons, just for the _thrill of it_! Hmph, your kind is really pushin' the limits with us. Bumblebee's been shot at twice already by a couple of kids no older than yourself."

"Hell, even your brother tried tazing me when he first found out about me! Though I guess I could have not jumped out at him during the test flight..."

My eyes landed on Wheelie. "Simon knows about you? Bu-h-how? Why didn't he ever-"

"What? And have you tell your mommy that little Johnny's got an alien living in his room?" The mini bot grinned mischievously, cocking a brow-like appendage hanging above his eye. "You think any ol' human adolescent could get his robotics team international with just his head and that mediocre science? Ha! Remember these babies-?" He turned and pointed at his back revealing helicopter blades that spun around and around with great speed until it looked like a still circular device. "Not much help in this form, but it sure would have beat those-"

"My circuits have picked up Cybertronian activity. Reveal yourself, Autobot."

The three of us turned to the radio. I could feel my heartbeat pick up. There was another Transformer in the area? What if this was secretly a Decepticon ready to snatch up the thing on my knee? Nonsense, they probably don't even know it yet. If this was how things were going to be, I wouldn't survive the remaining time left with them.  
"Reveal yourself, Friend, or I will be forced to surrender myself to the refuge of defense."

The Camaro slowed to a stop as the dead air made us all quiet. Then the doors swung open and a rusty "Get out" emitted from the speakers.

I wanted to object, but I had a feeling there was no other option. When I stepped out of the car, shaking undoubtedly, the twins followed in suite with hidden expressions. It was cold outside but I had to focus on bigger things - literally.

It was still exceptionally dark, but the moon's cascade was just bright enough to make out the mounds that lay before us and reflect off of the bright blue Transformer who stood conquering the night.

Then I watched as yellow erased blue. What was once an old sports car that had drove off without second guessing was now a monster standing a mile above me, gears grinding and, surprisingly, as human as ever. It stood with power, hands similar to that of mine clenching at it's side. His side.

The Camaro stared out into the hills where the cyan Samurai-styled robot held it, steadily making his way towards us. I hid in the tall grass that grew wildly on either side of the road, sensing and preparing for a battle to break out.

As the Samurai ascended onto level turf, I backed away once more. This robot was a good deal larger in thickness and in height, and unquestionably in strength. Though the Camaro held his chin up presumptuously anyway, body in a stance of readiness.

There had to be a way out of this, but when I checked my placement, there wasn't any signs of civilization within a mile's radius. I would never make it away in time. Especially in the dark like this.

"Why are you here, Bumblebee?" Needless to say, the Samurai warrior had an unmistakable Japanese accent that was more composed than his radio communication. It made my muscles relax a bit as I crouched down among the bushes.

"We might have a problem." The Camaro did not speak through movie clips or radio hosts like he had when we were talking. Maybe that was the only way of speaking when in vehicle form. "I found traces of Decepticon latched onto a human. They are becoming a direct threat, Drift."

I refrained from looking at the second life attached to me knee. The more I did, the more it freaked me out.

The Samurai looked at the Camaro with a graveness only people at a funeral home would give to loved ones. His eyes haltingly lowered to where I sat as the Camaro did the same, waving me over and not quite meeting my eyes.

"Come here, Human." He anchored his hand to the ground and I knew what he wanted me to do.

I stumbled aboard, falling to my back as he lifted me upwards eighty miles an hour. Just as the Camaro's red laser had done before, he scanned my body. "Only a sparkling, I see. Hmm, where did you receive such a treasure? That of your...eh, leg."

"U-Umm..." I rubbed the back of my neck, crawling backwards as he move to get a closer look at me. "I don't - I just got it - it's a new design - I mean, with my diabetes - and I've never liked the other-."

"Okay, okay, don't strain yourself, Young One." He gave a humorous chuckle as he shook me to the dirt, eyes restlessly flying to the moon. "The night is still fresh; We will find a solution without sacrifice; Have patience for another day."

Was he supposed to be some fortune-teller design from the Japanese?

I rubbed my upper-arms with my palms to warm them up. They just _had_ to steal me away _mid_-August in a _short_ dress with _no_ sweater? "S-So, what happens now?"

Both bots turned away from their low muttering and looked at me as if it was the most inconvenient question to ask. "What happens now? Bumblebee, do you have a proposal?" The Samurai slapped the Camaro's arm with his giant wrist, tone dripping in sarcasm. What ever happened to "Friend" over the radio?

The Camaro merely shrugged his shoulders, glancing between the two of us like we were the idea-conjurers of the group.

"Great," the Samurai murmured. "Sensei has overtly mis-annotated his specific instruction. I will signal for Crosshairs. He just might be able to understand and identify that Cybertronian device on you. For now we will rest among the caves of the plateau." The Samurai waved his arm about, exaggerating the majesty of Colorado.

The rocky nothingness of nothing.

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**Sorry if this chapter is short and kind of slow, but the next should be a good one!  
Crosshairs is coming into play soon, so I am excited for that. Hopefully some information will be revealed next.  
Thanks again for reading!  
Let me know how you think I am doing on O/C character development and Transformer interactions.**

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	5. Chapter 5

**Time Bomb**

**Chapter 5**

The remainder of the night consisted of the four robots resting in a stasis of some sort. I never knew mechanical creatures that ran off of gasoline required sleep to power. I guessed it was to help me fall asleep myself without having to turn on Beethoven, but that was the last thing I had on my mind. I had claimed my fair share on the drive here, and trusting that they would be cautious of their steps was not something I agreed to risk.

I decided to place myself farther away from them, keeping a watchful eye for any evil bots that might try to sneak up while I was alone. Besides my prosthetic, I had not witnessed one first hand that was threatening to take my life. I didn't know what they looked like or if they were anything like these "Autobots", but I was sure I would know when I found one.

I settled myself in a patch that had little to no weeds sprouting from the ground, gathering everything that happened to me in the past few hours together. My family was probably out searching for me; My mother especially worried sick. I hated to worry her so much what with all of her constant support. But I had to stay here and get this thing checked out, or else something bad could happen to more than just me.

As I stretched out my legs, I kicked the damned piece of metal and drug it rancorously against the hard surface, hoping it would fall off or break apart. I repeated this over and over, even springing to my feet and ramming it into the rocky wall with a rage that soon mutated into angry tears. I cried out as I began to feel a burning sensation at the base of the undesired appendage. How was this possible? I could actually wiggle the toes and _feel it_!

My greatest gift was the biggest tragedy. I collapsed again, ripping at the edges of the plastic that protected whatever was hidden within it. And when it didn't peel away as I wished, I screamed and more tears fell until there was nothing left inside of me to do anything.

I laid there for what seemed like forever, darkness eating away at me.

The Samurai then came out of nowhere with stretched arms, making a spot next to me with not even the slightest of a glance. I did not say anything.

"What is your name, Sparkling?" His gaze did not falter, as they were glued to the stars when he spoke.

I asked myself the same question, the words just barely forming around my lips. "Olivia."

"And what is your story, Olivia?"

My story? A smile began at the corner of my mouth. I had so many people ask me this that the answer came with a breeze. As I spilled my life story, I realized I was not afraid of these admirable robots. They were here to help and I had seen them protect their human allies during battle live on TV. I was in good hands, so what was I afraid of?

"What is 'type one diabetes'?" he annunciated the new words, looking down at me for the first time, face contorted with ignorance.

"An illness that basically attacks my immune system," I explained, "and shuts my body down. _Unless_ I take certain types of medication."

The bot swatted the air with his humongous hand, groaning for reasons unknown. "I didn't ask for your crusade tales-," he exclaimed. "Your _story_. This _diabetes_ is a mere enemy you have stumbled upon. He is hardly a specimen of mind if defeat is but an option."

I was humbled by his words, mouth agape with little to fill it in return. "I-I don't know what to say then."

"Who are you, Olivia?" The Samurai leaned in with narrowed eyes. "What have you done to earn your title? To make your place in this world?"

He returned to his original position, this time staring down at the land beyond us either thinking really hard or listening too intently. "I am Olivia Banks," I said, much weaker than I wanted it to be. "I've endured type-." I inhaled deeply and let it slip away with ease. "I've _defeated _my enemy at a minor cost of my leg. Uh, I've participated as a tutor for younger children having troubles with their academics, despite my degraded social life. Guess you could call me a math geek. And...um..." I struggled to find other things I have done that seemed valiant in the eyes of a human. "I'm fighting for my rights to do what I want to do."

It was a good thing my parents forced me into speech classes as a child.

"Olivia Banks," the Samurai mumbled as if testing the sound of it. "Hm, you have done many things to accept this name of yours. But I am afraid, right now, it is not enough. You are in the presence of a situation you cannot walk away from, you understand. You will need to bear this hardship until we can better deduce this, in which we may or may not ever. You are a brave one, Sparkling.

"Bumblebee, and I originally, believes it to be a live Decepticon. But know that what I discovered in my sight is much more alive than any random bot of deception. This is why I contacted Crosshairs, our more or less infamous armorer and mock medic when mandates to be. He's not the most pleasant Autobot for company, but there's a reason he remains fully programmed and functional."

I laid on my side as he spoke soft words, feeling a wave of fatigue finally hit me. The Samurai rested his mouth for a few minutes, an expression unreadable. "What did you say your name was?" I asked through a yawn.

"I am a Cybertronian Autobot. My honorable entitlement is Drift, and I am exalted to carry such prize."

My smile from before broadened, neglecting the entrance of thoughts of my future fate. "And have you earned this entitlement, _Drift_?"

The Samurai laughed. "I can never live up to it, but I will try. Discerning my mistake of following the wrong leader was my first trial. And I will transcend the many to come."

I waited a few moments to ask my next question, rolling onto my back and staring up at the stars as he had done before. They were exceptionally prominent. "Does all of this mean I'm still Olivia Banks?"

His voice dropped a level in volume. "That is for you to decide."

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By morning I had found myself balled up against the stone, a headache forming at the right of my skull from where a rock had dreams of becoming a pillow. I cringed, rubbing the raw skin so that the tingling would straighten out. When I looked beyond my resting area, all that was in my line sight was the rocky plains and grasslands.

Oh yeah, I forgot. I was in a life-threatening situation.

As I wandered to the cliff side where the Samurai and I had our talk the night before, I stared out into the distance watching the phantom ripples of water form on the horizon. The sun was already mantled high in the sky, so it had to be somewhere around noon. I sat myself down onto the warm surface, dangling my feet off the edge feeling the rumble of my stomach. I hadn't eaten anything since dinner with Martin yesterday.

Just what I needed. These robots didn't consume human food, and I couldn't go out anywhere without someone pointing me out. Not to mention all old yellow Camaros would become targets since not many owned one. There was no doubt the police were already after me. I would be caught, and they would suspect I ran away voluntarily. But I couldn't and wouldn't starve.

Inside the cave where the Autobots had resided in, the Samurai, Drift, had his two katana blades that he kept strapped to his back on his lap, and was sharpening them with an ancient looking rock of some sort. The Camaro, Bumblebee, was parked in front of him (pun not intended), shaking his head viciously and waving his hand as if whatever Drift was saying was ridiculous. Then the mini bots sat just behind them, watching the scene. The two larger robots must have been arguing about something.

Just as I was about to make a seat next to Bumblebee, he stormed off outside with flailed arms. Another thing I didn't know about alien robots: they had attitudes too.

"Is everything okay?"

Drift grumbled a reply that I could not quite translate, and I didn't bother asking again. The Autobots may have been the good guys, but giants nonetheless. Trust was still thin between us and I didn't want to be caught in the middle of one of their fits. So I distanced myself once again, laying my back against the cave walls at the entrance where Bumblebee was kicking around pebbles.

"Morning," I said hopelessly. I remembered when sometimes I would ignore my mother's morning smiles that disgusted me so. How could anyone be happy at the break of dawn? I still didn't really understand, but if I was going to be here a while, I wanted somebody to talk to at the least. Maybe that's how she felt when I was the only one home for the majority of the week.

The Camaro - I mean, Bumblebee stopped punching at the exterior cave walls, hesitating. To respond or respect, I did not know.

"Want to go for a drive?" I tried to be calm as he put his metal fists down and stared down at me with those intimidating robot eyes. They seemed soulless with the lack of emotion he showed. This bothered me more than aggression. "I-I mean, you know, I'm just hungry. It would be nice if-"

Before I could even finish my sentence, he had gotten down onto his hands and knees and was in his car transformation. The driver's door opened and I hopped inside, blushing. I didn't expect him to do this right off the bat. Then he drove off down the incline as I searched through the glove lock and back seat for spare cash and any hats or jackets. If I was lucky, it would be staged as a regular kidnapping. That way the news of this wouldn't spread out any farther than Arkansas. But I wasn't taking any chances.

"Where are we headed?" the radio picked up.

I smiled at it as I placed a baseball cap on my bedhead hair and tucked a twenty in my fist. "Do you always speak through the radio?" When I did not receive an answer, I sighed. "The nearest Wendy's. And a Goodwill if there's any nearby."

The trip was not very long. I had asked to stop by the Goodwill first so that I could slip out of the rotten cloth my mom called a dress. Colorado might have had high temperatures, but the nights turned out to be freezing. Something a knee-length curtain couldn't handle.

I had little money, so I settled on a single pair of dark jeans, a random tee that would be enough to do it's job, and a lightweight hoodie that was extra furry on the inside.  
With the remaining ten dollars I had left, I spent it on a burger at McDonalds since there was no Wendy's around and three water bottles that would hold me for about a week. Hey, I didn't know how long I was going to be there. I needed to be prepared for anything

On the way back to camp, I sat with my feet propped up on the dashboard, moving my shoulders to some songs Bumblebee favored. When he ran out of suggestions, I attempted to strike up a conversation. "So...Bumblebee, right?" I placed my finger on the bumblebee air-freshener and twirled it around. "Where'd you get that name?"

"Where did you get...yours?"

"My mom when I was born. That's different though. I'm Olivia because my mom liked it. You didn't just come into existence one day and have those door-wings on your back, did you? Do they even have bumblebees from where you come from?"

The engine revved some, and the radio lights lit up. "You ask too many questions."

I was somewhat taken aback, though I knew he was only joking. "Well, if you're going to kidnap me, at least let me have some freedom. Now, tell me about this home planet of yours."

Unlike previous questions answered in silence, Bumblebee opened up and gave me a brief summary of where he and the other Transformers came from, every once in a while struggling to find words in my language over the radio. It wasn't easy catching all the small details from the changing stations, but I had an overall idea. It was interesting to hear more Universe secrets unlocked from the alien himself.

Then he started on the wars prior to our meet. He explained to me the sources of a few battles back on his planet "Cybertron" but only touched up on the most recent ones here on Earth. The Decepticons first wanted the All Spark, the power that basically ruled all of Transformer kind, then decided world domination was their true passion.

It all made sense, I guess. Why they were here. Why the Badies were here.

Throughout his whole monologue, I rejected the thought of questioning him on the presence of the Autobots _now_. Obviously there was still some Decepticons out and about, but there had to be something bigger going on. They were hiding their whereabouts unlike the past few years.

Somehow, I knew I would find out eventually. After all, I was already caught in the current.

"Bumblebee," I said when he finally wrapped up to when I was first found. "Why do you think...you know...this _Decepticon_ is trying to pose as my leg? I know I've asked you and Drift a million times already, but...I've never really gotten a direct answer."

The Camaro replied with a single word: "Wait."

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Back to where I started. Bumblebee had scurried off as soon as we had reached camp. Where he went, I had no idea. Drift, on the other hand, rested on top of the caves, overlooking the land. He played the Samurai part well. But it was a little unusual to have a robot saying nothing and doing nothing as you yourself fiddled around wondering what to do next. So I hung my legs off the cliff once again, watching the sun fall from the sky.

I didn't know how long it had been, but when a small dot among the horizon zipped down the road, I was probably the happiest person in Colorado.  
"Drift," I hissed in a whisper as if the car half a mile a way would hear me. "Do you see that? Is it..."

"Crosshairs, yes. He is much earlier than I expected. But, time is of the essence. He must have sensed this."

I joined the Samurai by his side as he hopped down from the rock and stared down the approaching car. Doing this, I tapped my foot up and down with anticipation. Whether to be scared or ecstatic, I was not sure. At least _something_ was pumping through me.

The car did not make it all the way before transforming into his Autobot form. This one was green and ranged about the size of Drift, if not smaller. He reminded me of a mad scientist the way he dressed (if they even _did_ dress) with a cape-styled metal that hung from the top of his waist - down, and goggles of different colors attached to his forehead (which looked a little more like they belonged to an aviator, rather).

The bot looked intimidating as he sneered over at Drift, whom I had hid behind before safety was granted.  
"This better be good, Drift. I was in Las Vegas having myself a ball, and then you call." The green robot shook his arms around that raised his voice for him. "Almost blew my cover too."

Drift seemed to ignore his slander, and carried on. "You are the only one I can count on right about now, Crosshairs," he spat as if his comrade was a fool. "The Autobots became quiet since the end of Sentinel Prime. I have been unable to contact even the most talkative of bots, Sideswipe, when he arose my censors nearly months ago. But Sideswipe cannot aid me in this matter. A medic is in need for this job."

Crosshairs groaned and twisted up his face with disgust. "I'm not a medic. I deal with weapons and armor strictly. Just because I did some work on Optimus does not make me a replacement for Ratchet."

Drift hesitated, then signaled for me to reveal myself. I came out from behind him, only to be greeted by a grimace. "This might change your mind."  
"A human? Are you half-clocked? Do you know what they've been doing nowadays? Every one of them, hunting us down. Had some shooting out my tires after scopin' me out. I don't know how, but they did, and I drove miles upon miles on only three wheels over in Cali. It wasn't until I reached Vegas that I loss them. Whatever _it_ is, whatever _it_ is so special abou-"

"Are you going to argue my reasoning without verifying the situation yourself?"

I watched cautiously as the Autobot grumbled to himself from being interrupted, swiping me up in his metal claws without care. "What is it?" his eyes glazed over me then turned to the Samurai who stood his ground confidently.

"Decepticon evidence has been traced inside of her right leg," said Drift, pointing to the prosthetic. "Bumblebee first came to me with her yesterday believing an actual Decepticon had a transformation-"

Crosshairs interrupted, "Do you really think speaking of this_ in front of the Decepticon itself _is the best idea?"

My head flipped back and forth between the two robots as they flashed scowls at each other. "If you would allow me to finish, you would know that I myself suspect otherwise. Look at the connection with the Cybertronian metal and her circuits. No Decepticon has the ability to do this."

My heart pounded as I imagined a phantom tingle at the bottom of that leg. What was he talking about? He had never spoken to me about this when I asked him about it the night before. "What do you need me for? Her fate is sealed. There is nothing we can do about it." I gripped the silver metal that held me and gulped all the nourishment out of my mouth.

"Is this what you have become?" Drift's voice roughened as it grew. "I know that you see something, Crosshairs. Just because humans have endangered themselves does not mean that each and everyone deserves extinction because of our own kind. This will be the start of a second war, and we must put an end to it now."

The two bots were face to face with me stuck in between, Crosshair's hand dangerously wrapped around my body. He could have squeezed me to a pulp right then and there, but he didn't. Instead, he stepped back in surrender and walked towards the cave, seeming to have forgotten about the helpless creature between his fingers.

Crosshairs did not settle for a few feet inside of the cave, but more like a quarter mile before whipping out a laser that he drove into the rock. The heap fell to the ground flat-sided, rising to the Autobot's hips. He dropped me onto it without a second thought. "Run and you'll regret," he snapped, turning away and pulling a variety of items from somewhere inside his trench coat and traced out a similar rock to place all of his mechanical stuff. I stared down from the boulder and shivered at the height. I wasn't sure any human could survive the jump.

"What are you doing?" I gathered all the confidence I could and stood with my fists clenched at my side. I couldn't look weak in front of them. I couldn't have them thinking I couldn't handle what I was going through. That I wasn't just some scared human.

"At ease," said the cool Japanese voice that broke the silence with his entrance. "Crosshairs is only here to help, I assure you."

I swallowed the third lump in my throat and relaxed my muscles. The more I pushed myself through this and cooperated, the faster this would be. I hoped.

"Lay flat," Crosshairs instructed me and I followed his orders. He hung up a lantern on the wall after drilling in a hook, then held some type of a scanner over me. He moved it back and forth, landing right above my knee and taking a closer look. Drift peered over the Autobot's shoulder and nodded his head as if Crosshairs had sent him a silent message.

"What is it?" he squinted his eyes.

"Tell me everything," said the green robot, throwing his scanner carelessly behind him and pinning Drift against the wall by his shoulders. "What is that thing?" he snarled in a low voice made for me not hear. But I did. Every word. "I know almost _every _apparatus Cybertron has to offer, and that can't be one. Whatever it is - it's spreading. And fast."

The Samurai held up his hands in an attempt to calm Crosshairs, but, like me, he looked ready to explode. What was spreading? What could have possibly been streaming through me emitted by the prosthetic alone?

"I don't know," Drift murmured, pushing the other away while keeping his head. "But we need to. Crosshairs, you have to investigate this. This can be a dangerous target against the humans or even the Autobots. In any form it will mean certain fate for one of the two species. Can I count on you?"

The green bot studied Drift with an anger and fear mixed around in his expression. Which made me wonder why he was at all afraid, or upset even. _I_ was the one with the time bomb. Not him._ I_ was the one being targeted. Not human kind. Somebody or something wanted me dead. But why in this way? What was this supposed to do to me? Melt my insides; Freeze them to the core; Construct a black hole inside?

Whatever it was, there was no inner-strength I could bring forth and act like I was okay. None of it was left. I used that all up on speaking to the alien robots.

Crosshairs bowed his head slightly, but by the look he still carried, he was not happy about it one bit.

The Samurai nodded in response, turning back towards the entrance and leaving us.

"Where are you going?" he hollered, madness jumbling up again.

"You wanted to know everything?" said Drift. "You're going to know everything."

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**So...there's another chapter for you. I really hope I'm doing okay so far. I'm trying not to make things too fast for the beginning, but I guess it did take five chapters to get this far, huh? I'd like to thank all of my reviewers once again: seeing them build up is really exciting for me and honestly gives me more inspiration to write this. Considering my stories are usually discontinued by the second chapter, this is a great improvement for me. Thank you guys so much and hopefully I'll have two more chapter out by next Thursday since it is the first day back to school. Dx**

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